Pride and joy

Why I am not proud of my children

My former performance proteges may correct me, but of all the hundreds of casts that I put on the stage over a period of a third of a century, I don’t think I ever told any of them I was proud of what they had done. This does not mean they didn’t delight me, exceed my expectations and sometimes even astonish me. It’s just that I have a peculiar relationship with the notion of pride.

These days people seem ever keen to declare that they are proud of others. This is not limited to family members, or even coaches or tutors. Friends do it. Sometimes even strangers say it; which seems very odd to me.

It is natural to expect a parent to be proud of their child especially if they have achieved something, but it is a sentiment I try to suppress, for one simple reason: it feels like a kind of theft.

If a child of mine achieves something, they do so independently. I do not wish to claim even the smallest credit. Being proud implies that the parent has collaborated in the accomplishment. Technically this may be true. We pass on our genes, but we do not do so deliberately. We do not choose which genes to donate. (Horrifyingly, this may soon be possible.) Neither do we have the capacity to accept or decline genetic gifts from our parents. Our proclivities, attitudes and characteristics are hardwired naturally, they are not engineered.

Richard and David in the garden where they grew.

Ah, you might say, but surely there are consequences that result from the nature of the nurturing we deliver. Yes, but to what extent? Children can override, reject, modify or ignore our influence. They can also be impervious to it, through no fault of their own.

Even if we do provide the environment, encouragement, nourishment and expectation designed to uplift our progeny beyond that of their competitors, is that really something worthy of pride? Or are we pulling strings on the puppets of our self-esteem?

It was my daughter who taught me not to be a proud parent. Our two youngest children powered their way through their education, almost precisely mirroring each other’s attainment and rising to lofty levels. Our eldest, cannot successfully add three to four, tie her shoelaces or be allowed near a road unaccompanied. She is forty-three years of age.

I am cautious about putting Jenny in online posts because she has no understanding of what they are and lacks the capacity to consent. I wrote about her childhood on this site a few years ago.[1] Jenny has to deal with two main complications: autism and learning difficulties. It was the latter that taught me to reconsider the application of parental pride.

A new baby comes with a Santa-sized sack of possibilities and expectations. If the child has significant learning differences, the sack remains stuck in the chimney of hope, where it is eventually combusted and converted into smoke. Jenny taught us to expect nothing and celebrate everything. The lesson was liberating and joyous. We subsequently applied the same approach to each of her younger brothers.

I am not proud of Jenny, but neither am I in the least disappointed by her or ashamed of her. Jenny does what she does because she is what she is. She did not choose the cards we dealt her or the pack that nature put in our hands. She plays them the only way she can. Despite our best efforts, she cannot comply with all the rules of the game and often cheats in unexpected ways. This makes me very happy.

Jenny often delights us. Her unique take on the everyday is persistently amusing. The fact that, with constant support, she is able to navigate her individual path through the multi-dimensional jungle of an exclusively perceived and impossibly complex world pleases me immensely. It does not make me proud. It makes me very glad.

So it is with our boys, both of whom have reached beyond the basics of independence to contribute imaginatively and encourage and enable others to do likewise. The kudos for doing this lies entirely with them. I refuse to claim credit by expressing pride, but their conduct and their creativity gives me immense satisfaction and deep, deep joy.